Bit By Bit - Hobbit Drabbles
by WhispersOfStarlight
Summary: Just an on-going series of drabbles that do not fit into my other stories.
1. Losing the Years

"I am old now Frodo, I'm not the same hobbit I once was..."

Bilbo sat there staring at the sketch with a soft smile on his face.

"It seems so long ago since I was a young man, opening that door and finding those dwarves on the other side."

"I write this memoir not to boast of my adventures, my boy. I write because I am afraid. Afraid of losing all those precious memories of my journey, the places I had seen, and the people I had met. Of Rivendell and Lord Elrond, The Misty Mountains and my meeting with Gollum, The Carrock and the Great Eagles, Beorn the skin-changer and his lovely home, Mirkwood and my run-in with Shelob. Sneaking through the Elf-king's lair, riding the barrels, of going to Laketown and meeting Bard the Bowman, and the one person I still grieve for to this day. The dwarf prince who had helped me find my courage."

"Thorin Oakenshield."

"I have lost the years, my dear Frodo, lost them in orders of magnitude. Only here will I be able to look back and remember them in whole and smile, secure in the fact that I have not lost the years, but kept them safe."


	2. Special

His ink-stained hands trembled as they reached out to touch the drawing.

He had never really felt special, not until he met them.

That was when he realized he was more than a gentle-hobbit.

He was Luck-wearer and Barrel-rider.

The Ring-Winner.

The one who walks unseen.

He was Burglar, Web-cutter, and Spider-stinger.

He was door-finder and riddle-maker and most importantly of all...

he was dwarf-friend.

He nodded.

Yes, he was quite special indeed.


	3. Stars

**A/N: Okay, so there are going to be some Bagginshield drabbles thrown in here too. **

Bilbo found himself staring more and more at Thorin. His dark hair, with its streaks of grey. The intricate braids held there with beads of metal.

The way he carried himself. With pride and just a touch of arrogance.

How he seemed to wield Orcist with such grace and fluidity.

How when he was angry, his eyes would flash with such fire.

And when he was happy, his eyes would soften just a bit, and the corner of his lips would twitch ever so slightly.

Bilbo was finding that looking at Thorin was a lot like looking for stars in the night sky; the longer one looked, the more one saw.


	4. No Matter What

**A/N: This was an exercise to see how much story I could get in as few sentences as possible.**

* * *

><p>He couldn't get the idea of Thorin dying out of his head.<p>

He wasn't able to.

So when Thorin began to close himself off, to withdraw deeper and deeper into that pit of darkness and rage; Bilbo knew he had to do something.

Thorin was becoming like Smaug more and more.

He had to save him.

Bilbo clutched the glowing stone to his chest.

No matter what.


	5. Stories

They had made it to Laketown and he was relieved that they had gotten there somewhat safe.

Looking out the window, he didn't notice Thorin standing behind him.

"Ori has mentioned that you have been telling the children here about our adventures."

Bilbo jumped before nodding.

"They did rather enjoy the one about the trolls."

Thorin shook his head.

"He also said that you left out the part where you helped us."

Bilbo shrugged.

"It didn't seem fair to belittle you all."

"But you were the only one at the moment who had sense to vie for more time."

The hobbit looked away, shaking his head.

"I think they would rather listen to stories about courageous and skilled dwarves than a silly, homesick hobbit."

Thorin placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You, my friend, think so little of yourself. At the end of this, when Erebor is reclaimed, you will be the subject of many books."

"I really don't think so."

"We would not have even had a chance of getting this far. I for one would not be standing here had you not decided to join this company."

Thorin turned away, pausing a moment before walking off.

"You are more important than you yourself realize."

Bilbo blinked back tears.


	6. All-Powerful

He had put it off for far too long for fear of his reaction.

But now he had no time left.

And that saw him standing here, and he couldn't care less how much of a mess he looked.

He just couldn't leave without saying goodbye.

Bilbo sniffled as he looked at the tomb of Thorin Oakenshield.

The light of the Arkenstone shone brightly in the dim light.

It drew Bilbo closer and he collapsed, both hands clutching at the stone visage.

He had tried to help and failed.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

We are not as all-powerful as we would like to think.


	7. Regret

Frodo found a white-haired Bilbo sat on a bench, next to a red-bound journal, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief.

"What's the matter Uncle Bilbo?"

Bilbo looked up and smiled through his tears.

"Ah, Frodo! Come here, my boy, sit next to me a while."

Frodo nodded, picking up the journal before sitting down and placing it in his lap and flipping it open.

"Can you tell me why you were crying Uncle?"

He shook his head, fresh tears filling his eyes.

"Ever since that day...Ever since I saw the King Under the Mountain and his nephews be placed in the tombs, I made a promise."

"What promise was that?"

"That their deaths wouldn't be in vain. So from that day forth, I kept trying to make their deaths be worth something, my boy, but the thing is...I couldn't. Not with that damned ring's influence on me."

Frodo smiled.

"But you do not have the ring anymore, Uncle. You could try now."

"Not now, Frodo. I am far older now and can no longer do what it was I had set out to do. That task now falls to you my boy. You are so much stronger than I was at your age and a touch more adventurous I wager."

Frodo nodded, a grim look on his face.

"Have no worry, Uncle. I will do this, not only for you but for them as well."

"Just maybe it will come true now..."

Bilbo leaned over and his fingers traced the letters as he mouthed the words.

"'And he lived happily ever after to the end of his days'..."


End file.
